


Planning

by Sitrus



Series: arcana stuff [4]
Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: ANYHOW, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Sickfic, There's also drinking, aaaand I accidentally deleted most of my tags, but it's more like ppl getting on Morga's nerves and testing their boundaries with her, but the comfort is not like... super prominent or pushy lol, it's there, they are all various levels of drunk, to show some affection lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:00:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25249543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sitrus/pseuds/Sitrus
Summary: Morga doesn't know how to let go even when she's surrounded by trusted members of her tribe only. Some alcohol might help, though, and maybe, just maybe, it is not so bad to have people caring for you.
Series: arcana stuff [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1756987
Kudos: 3





	Planning

**Author's Note:**

> hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh I didn't edit this as well as I could have, I'm sorry  
> this is also just  
> kinda indulgent

"We've got two options", Geirni says. He's laid out a map between them and is setting various stones on it. "I got a word from my scouts that the people camping on the north side of the Drake Hills are on the move and making their way west. It seems their plan is to walk through the chasm so we could create a blockage here. They can't cross through the wetlands at the bottom so they'd need to take the hillside path here."

Geirni adds stones in places of interest on the map and draws the supposed path down with a finger as he explains. Morga follows with moderate interest, sipping on her ale as she does so. It seems like an all right plan so far but she isn't sure how much there is to be gained there. 

"Taking them down on the hills would be easy", Lutz agrees. "That's a difficult terrain if you don't know it well enough."

"The terrain would also make carrying the loot back here harder", Morga points out. She tries to ignore the touch of congestion in her voice as well as the slight raspiness of it, as if the others wouldn't notice them either if she didn't care. That's her plan for their little evening get-together all though she has to admit it isn't very good. Everything from her lungs to her nose is itchy and congested and she has to spend a lot of her energy and focus to keep herself from coughing and sneezing through the thing. The drinks they all are having help some. 

"Is the loot worth it?" she asks and sniffles thickly, then takes a long sip from her drink to try and subdue the itching. It hardly works and as soon as everyone's attention is back on Geirni, she pinches her nose shut to stifle a sneeze. Or three, as it turns out. She turns her attention back on the map just in time to see Lutz hastily look away from her. 

"Of course we can't know what all they are carrying until we dig through their bodies but we do know they have a few horses and some valuables we could sell." 

"How many horses?" Gunne asks.

"Five. All look to be healthy and strong." 

"We don't need five horses", Morga says. "One might be useful but five would put strain on our resources."

"We could make them carry most of the loot, then kill and preserve the meat. We wouldn't need to worry about food for a good while." 

Geirni definitely has a point. For a few moments they all just look at the map as they ponder the suggestion in silence. Relative silence, anyhow. With no one talking Morga feels like every sniffle and small cough she has to let out draw everyone's attention to her, but her options are limited. She doesn't want her nose visibly running and the sniffling seems like the best of her options. Likewise the occasional throat clearing or a small cough helps her keep from launching into a proper fit. Even if this gathering is just between the four of them and the situation is relatively friendly and casual, she would prefer to keep the bit of a cold she's picked up from becoming public knowledge. 

"Well. That is certainly a plan", Lutz says after a while. He pushes himself off his seat just enough to reach for one of the bottles of liqueur they have on the table between them. He fills his own glass as well as Morga's. "They'd reach the potential blockage in… five days?" 

Geirni nods.

"Unless they run into trouble on their way." 

The itch deep in Morga's nose suddenly flares up, going from a small irritation in the back of her consciousness to intense and overpowering. She presses the back of her hand against her nose instinctively in an attempt to push back the need to sneeze. She does her best to keep from gasping in air in preparation for it but all that achieves is turning a simple inhale into desperate hitching before a harsh, wet sneeze anyhow forces its way out. She can feel all eyes on her, as if the situation wasn't awkward enough without the others openly paying attention.

"Take this", Lutz says and he presses a piece of cloth into her free hand. Morga takes it and wipes off the mess left behind by the sneeze.

"Are you all right?" Geirni asks. Morga shoots him a warning look over the cloth as she wipes her streaming nose. She sniffles hard against it to try and regain some control over the running. 

"I'm fine", Morga says sternly as she tucks away the cloth. Gunne laughs warmly next to her, making her ears burn with a mix of embarrassment and irritation. Morga wouldn't say that alcohol doesn't agree with Gunne, but it does tend to emphasise her bold and carefree nature.

"You didn't expect an honest answer, did you?" Gunne asks, earning an amused chuckle from Lutz. 

"I _am_ fine", Morga repeats with more emphasis. The obvious congestion in her voice might eat up the believability of her words but the others leave the matter be nonetheless. 

"You said we have two options", Morga says to direct the conversation back on track and away from her. The sneeze only brought momentary relief and both her throat and nose are already itching like nothing had happened. Morga risks a couple of quiet coughs as Geirni shares more of the intel he's got from his scouts but they come with a bubble of congestion she didn't ask for. Morga quickly grabs the glass of liqueur Lutz poured her and downs the contents on one go in hopes of them washing the coughing fit down with them.

"I say we go with the first option", Gunne says when Geirni's done speaking. Lutz hums in agreement and suddenly they all are looking at Morga again. Admittedly she didn't pay as much attention to the explanation as she should have. For the last couple of minutes especially she was almost entirely focused on her nose and how it seemed to be determined to make her sneeze her head off in the middle of Geirni's monologue. She's at the centre of everyone's attention again right when she wants it the least. She blinks and sniffles, trying to gather her thoughts enough to give a sensible response.

"The people in the south-east aren't likely to leave any time soon, are they?" Morga asks. Her breath is threatening to hitch as she barely manages to keep from sneezing long enough to get the sentence out. She pitches forward with a stifled sneeze as soon as Geirni starts speaking.

"No, they just recently set up a semi-permanent looking camp", Geirni says.

"Th-nxt! Then… nxt! I-hh… I-hxt! agr-hh-ee-hhxt! _agree_ … hksh! _ugh, f-fuck--hhTSHO!_ " Morga stubbornly tries to cut the fit short after each stifled sneeze, punctuating the whole ordeal with sharp yet thick sniffles, but the need to sneeze doesn't budge. When she finally gives into the itch, she's launched into an intense, desperate fit of full body sneezes that force her up from her casually loungy position. For a while the fit is the only thing she can pay any attention to yet she still manages to lose count of her sneezes after the sixth one. When she finally stops sneezing, she's left sniffling behind tented hands, elbows resting on her legs.

"Prosit", Lutz says with a little too much empathy after a while of silence. He reaches over from his seat and pulls out the cloth he'd given her earlier from where she had tugged it. She snatches it from him while trying to contain the mess as carefully as she can and does her best to clean everything quickly and effectively. The sooner she's dealt with the mess, the sooner she can start pretending nothing ever happened. 

"Then I agree with Gunne and Lutz", Morga says as soon as she's composed herself again. She gives her nose a quick rub before straightening up and pouring herself a drink of the nearest liqueur. The alcohol is slowly starting to affect her, too, but in the moment she kind of wishes she already were drunk enough not to care what happens. The fit just now was embarrassing to say the least and all she can do is hope the others will let it be. Knowing them, she won't be that lucky. 

"I got just the thing you need, Morga", Gunne says. Morga isn't sure she even wants to know what this is about. Gunne digs through her pockets until she finds a small bottle that, in Morga's opinion, shouldn't have taken so long to find. She uncorks it and grabs Morga's liqueur glass, filling it to the brim before handing it to Morga. Morga takes it and tries to sniff it through her congestion but all she notices is the burn of alcohol. 

"Bottoms up! Heidrun and I have a whole crate of it from past encounters with northern merchants. It'll kick that cold right out of your body." 

Gunne has filled or own glass with it as well and is lifting it up at Morga. Morga lifts her own a little in response, then follows suit as Gunne downs her drink. It's strong, that's the first thing Morga notices. Under the overpowering taste of alcohol there's an equally strong mixture of herbs. The combination burns her throat and stomach in a way their usual liqueurs don't, opening up her airways on its way down. It would be great if it didn't make her nose go from barely contained running to openly streaming. The shift in congestion makes nose itch again and the burn in her throat turns the need to cough all the more compelling and, with the herbal liqueur as an excuse, she hardly cares to hold anything back.

Her breath hitches but it catches in her throat, the acute need to cough pushing the nasal irritation to the background for the time being. The loosened congestion turns the coughs more productive than she had anticipated, which makes her ears burn in embarrassment due to the discriminatingly sick sound of the fit. When she finally catches a break it's just so she can sneeze again.

"That's it! Hack it all out and you'll feel better", Gunne laughs. It's a friendly kind of laughter but nevertheless makes Morga feel conscious about the display she's putting up. This isn't how she wants to present herself to her tribesmen, even if it's just Lutz and two trusted members of their close circle. She may have less of a need to keep up appearances with them but they also aren't as afraid to talk to her directly and to express feelings and ideas they know she may not be in agreement with. Worry over her health would definitely count as one of those things. 

"Will you be up to raiding in just five days?" Lutz asks in the direct manner he usually saves for more private situations. And like usual there is genuine concern in his voice, not for the success of their mission but for her wellbeing.

"Why wouldn't I be? I'm f--"

"Oh, cut the crap, Morga", Gunne says, interrupting her midsentence. "Everyone sees you aren't fine, these boys just don't have the balls to say it directly." 

Even Lutz looks a little uncomfortable in front of Gunne's boldness, or maybe it's the jab at his manhood that has him squirming, Morga doesn't know. It's nothing compared to Geirni's obvious discomfort, though. Unlike Gunne, he prefers to stay within safe boundaries with Morga rather than testing his luck with such direct comments. Gunne's older and more experienced than him, and has reached the point in her life where she really doesn't care what others think of her or who she angers. In general it's a quality Morga can appreciate but right now it's testing her patience. 

" _Fine. A little cold_ is not going to incapacitate me", Morga says. Her tone is icy enough to communicate she's done with the topic, but Gunne doesn't seem to care. She scoffs out a laugh and is about to say something more when Geirni hurries to change the topic.

"So uhh… How shall we cut their path, then? The walkable terrain is narrow here so this would probably be the spot, but how shall we actually do it?" 

Morga doesn’t take an active part in the following debate on whether they should take down a bunch of trees and make a not at all suspicious pile or if maybe they should go and see if the steep rock wall there could be easily made to crumble. Or if, maybe, there's some other way to handle it. The alcohol is finally starting to get to her head and after the whole… ordeal, she decides to focus on working on that for the time being. The other three are doing fine on their own and besides, she's the only one who didn't come into the gathering already tipsy. By the time they are done with the serious business and move on to more casual topics, she's in a lot more friendly and relaxed mood. She doesn't even mind the concerned look Lutz gives her as they roll up the map.

"If you'd rather be alone, we can leave", he says. Morga scoffs, then coughs harshly into a cupped hand. She's drunk enough to be past caring if the people present get to see the state she's in. She doesn't care if they hear the productivity of her cough or the desperate sneezing fits she's been trying to avoid since she went to bed with a small chill some days ago. She hardly cares if she's a cold-ridden mess when it's just the four of them and she knows the others have had their share of the liqueur as well. 

"If I wanted you out, you wouldn't be here", Morga says. As if she was the kind of a person to host friendly gatherings in her room out of kindness or consideration for others when she wanted to be alone. Lutz should know she would have kicked them out by now. He should also know that being a little under the weather isn't enough to put her off the party mood, especially if the company is right. Maybe he gets it, at least he doesn't press the subject or start insisting she should drive them off in order to get some rest. 

Morga doesn't know how long they spend chatting and drinking but it feels like a long time. Her perception might be skewed though as she's starting to feel exhaustion set deep in her bones, spread out into her muscles and become a heaviness that looms over her. The external clues of passing time are limited as well; they are far enough into autumn for the sun to set early and stay down late and you can't keep a track of the sky's movements when you are inside. The bottles spread out on the table grow emptier, though, and she's not sure how much wood they have burned through.

Despite her illness, Morga's reluctant to bring the night to an end. There's a certain comfort in gatherings like this, in sharing stories and seeing everyone enjoy themselves. She even finds herself appreciating the small, caring gestures she's getting from her increasingly drunk close circle when she keeps sneezing and coughing through every story and song they share, and she has to admit it's nice to let loose for a moment. She might disagree with herself the next day when she's sobered up and the memories of her own lack of control hit her but that's something she can worry about later. She decides to take another shot of liqueur to chase away the thought of it as they all listen to Gunne tell a humorous tale of a hunting trip gone wrong. It's a ridiculous story more so due to its unbelievability than anything, and it even gets a small laugh out of Morga. Consequently she spends a better part of the following minute in the throes of a particularly violent coughing fit. 

"There, there… Have a drink, it'll help", Gunne says. Morga half expects her to offer more of that liqueur of hers or something similar and she's a little surprised when she's offered water instead. Lutz or Geirni must have got it since Gunne's been rubbing circles on her back since the fit started. Morga takes the water and gulps it down against the still persistent itch, puts the cup down on the table and leans forwards with her elbows resting on her legs. She needs a moment to recover and to wait out the remaining itch.

"Maybe we should call it a night. You look tired", Gunne says, breaking the silence that has fallen over them all. Morga brushes her hands over her face and through her hair before shrugging off the hand that's still resting on her back.

"I'm not that tired", she says as she sits up properly. The obvious hesitation she's getting from the men and the warm hearted determination from Gunne make her self conscious about the whole situation again and she feels herself slipping away from the comfortable and relaxed headspace she's managed to find. She's a little too out of it, though, thanks to the combination of all the alcohol she's drunk and the exhaustion, to slip all the way back to her usual, uptight self. When the awkward silence threatens to drag on, Luts lets out an exaggerated yawn. 

"I don't know about you three, but I've had a long day. I think I'll be heading to sleep", he says and stands up. Geirni is eager to jump in on the plan. 

"Me too. And I promised Bodo I would go hunt down some wolves with him tomorrow."

He and Gunne stand up as well and Morga feels compelled to follow suit. She watches as the three of them do some drunken hugging and patting on the back while wishing each other good night. Geirni keeps a comfortable distance to her when he wishes her a good night as well, and Lutz gives her shoulder an affectionate pat. It's all well within her comfort zone until Gunne decides to wrap an arm around her shoulders and pull her to a one sided hug. 

"You take care of that cold of yours, all right", she says and squeezes Morga's arm. The moment is over before Morga can react to it and she's left to watch in silence as the others leave her room. Gunne's audacity is irritating her long after they are gone and she paces her room to let the anger dissipate. She _is_ tired, as little as she wants to admit it after what just happened, but she knows there's little point to trying to go to sleep until her mind has calmed down. It takes a while of letting her angry thoughts run free while stomping around at a constantly increasing speed but she does manage to ride out the surge of unasked for feelings.

In the absence of company, storytelling and drinking, the lessening anger means that eventually her state of intoxication is the only thing keeping her from experiencing the full force of her cold. The exhaustion is the first thing that catches up with her again and she sits down on edge of the simple bed she has in her room. She should take off her leathers and wash her face but with the drunken heaviness and spinning of her head combining with the generally run down feeling, she doesn't particularly want to get back up. She loosens some of the more restricting bands holding her outfit in place, removes her boots and takes off the layers of leather acting as armour, throwing them on a nearby chair. 

The exhaustion is not the only thing accentuated by all the liqueur she's consumed. While being drunk takes off the edge of her sinus headache and hides the muscle aches under a layer of numbness, it makes her congestion all the more prominent. Now that she's alone, Morga takes out the cloth again and blows her nose thoroughly. Her sinuses are so swollen though that even after filling the cloth with snot she's left mouth breathing.

After a while of sitting Morga start feeling a little cold. Somewhere under the heat of alcohol, deep in her core, rises a chill that by all logic shouldn't be there. She's drunk and fully dressed, there are logs still burning in the firepit and the outdoors temperatures don't tip much below the freezing point this time of the year. She should be warm enough or even too warm, but she isn't, and she makes the drunken decision to drag her bed as close to the fire as she dares. Once there she settles on the furs and draws a blanket over herself, curling up on one side with her face toward the fire. 

Being closer to the fire and under a blanket, as thin as it may be, does help Morga feel warmer, but she can't say she's comfortable. There’s still a burning itch both in her throat and somewhere deep inside her nose, which has also started running. All Morga has on her is the soaked through cloth from before and trying to wipe her nose with it just makes her irritated enough to throw it in the firepit. She watches it slowly catch fire and burn, contemplating getting up to find a replacement while sniffling against a sleeve covered hand. The sleeve is absorbent enough to satisfy her drunken self, though, especially when the other option would require getting up when she's just lied down. Sneezing into the sleeve is a little more disgusting but before she can change her mind about finding something else to use instead, she's already drifting off to sleep.


End file.
